


Sing it Loud

by svtrighthere



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Boochan tag so bare let me add something, Canon Compliant, Chan never gets sexy times and he deserves it, Comedy, Fluff, Heavy in oral sex, Hoshi makes a Harry Potter reference at an inappropriate time, Humor, Implied Switching, Lee Chan loves to oblige him in his own wicked way, Lee Jihoon ultimately suffers BUT Mingyu is the troll here, M/M, Oral Sex, Projecting my Boochan desires in this bare field, Seungkwan loves sucking dick, Singing, Smut, Switching, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svtrighthere/pseuds/svtrighthere
Summary: Every time they did it, there were buttons flying in the air and scattering on the floor, devious, sly laughs, stitches ripping along the hems of the shirts, belts knocking hard against one another and teeth clashing under the breaths of soft, panted moans.It was war, really
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Lee Chan | Dino
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Sing it Loud

Every time they did it, it was a fucking mess.  
  
Every time they did it, they almost ended up pulling their hair out, fighting their usual, idiotic fight for the dominance with some good, hard, aggressive tugging at each other’s styled locks, even screaming in pain and frustration just to not give in, _never_ give in, but always ending up laughing, hissing and cursing at the other’s endurance.

They slammed against the first available surface within arm’s reach, once on the front door, the other times against the wall, and then the bookcase, and the wall again, and the door, the bed, the floor.

They rolled over themselves, two feral cats playing a dangerous fight for power, as if breaking a couple of ribs against the hard edges of the furniture could help them in winning the war and finally establish their territory.  
  
Every time they did it, there were buttons flying in the air and scattering on the floor, devious, sly laughs, stitches ripping along the hems of the shirts, belts knocking hard against one another and teeth clashing under the breaths of soft, panted moans.  
  
It was war, really.

* * *

  
  
The first time Seungkwan ever tried to bend Chan over the kitchen’s table, finally free to manhandle each other in peace without annoying interferences – that totally didn’t begin with the word Kim and ended with Mingyu, no, not at all.  
  
“What the fuck, Seungkwan,” a startled gasp, followed by the loud crash of one first glass falling on the floor as he accidentally knocked into the dishware. Chan tried to immediately invert his position and turn towards him, but it didn’t work out that well.  
  
“ _What_ ,” Seungkwan didn’t sound that uncertain at all, when he pressed him down a second time, now much more harder, to squeeze his back against the flat surface of the table.  
  
And two more glasses, gone.  
  
(They were going to pay for that. In hell, probably.)  
  
It’s not like either one of them cared at all, anyway. Whatever irreversible mess they just made down there, on the kitchen floor of their dorm, they would have dealt with it later, possibly after their little explanatory chat. Or explanatory angry sex, maybe. It was good either way, even better if both at the same time.  
  
“What. _What_. Really, Seungkwan. Are you being deliberately obtuse?” too bad that Chan was definitely not in the mood to keep his legs that beautifully wide open.  
  
“Dude,” he blinked at him, frowning a bit. “I’m a dude.”  
  
Yeah.  
  
Pure stroke of genius.  
  
Seungkwan’s wrinkled eyebrows almost spoke for themselves. “Wow. I would have never guessed,” he huffed, plain and sardonic, before clenching his fingers around those soft thighs and forcefully spreading them much wider in front of his waist.  
  
A strangled moan slipped through Chan’s throat. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, low, and he instinctively grabbed Seungkwan’s neck with a strong grip.  
  
“Fucking you, maybe?” and yes, he was still undeniably smiling – an unusual feral smile painted on the most fuckable lips of the universe.  
  
Chan would have gladly ravished them many times every day, and many _many_ times in a row, shoving his dick down that throat so hard and deep that Seungkwan would have been too sore to sing anything for the following week. But this was not the right time, nor the right place. Not like _that_.  
  
“You wish, Seungkwan. You wish,” he singsonged.  
  
Breaking free didn’t come easy, not when kicking Seungkwan right in the sternum and consequentially tackling him to the ground was the plan that he was trying so hard to follow, because not even his meager fighting skills stood a chance against an overly excited, aggressive and sexually frustrated Seungkwan.

If it hadn’t been for that completely accidental and unintended knee in the nuts, which kind of almost broke Seungkwan in half and made him drop on the floor with the most excruciating wail in the whole history of wailing, Mingyu’s unexpected scream of horror wouldn’t have been directed to the hecatomb of glasses and ceramic scattered on the kitchen floor but rather to Chan’s bare ass pounded against the wooden surface of their dining table.  
  
  
Getting caught in the heat of the moment was their thing.  
  
It was a good mixture of karma and utter stupidity, because it was damn obvious that when blood rushed down the bottom half of their body there was no longer sign of any kind of actual brain activity.

At all.

Moreover, as if this wasn’t enough, it was also pretty damn true that they always chose the worst moments to get painfully hard, and mostly because they both had the worst case of self-control ever. Like getting it on in the shower, for example.

Every rational human being on this planet knows that fucking in the shower of a single apartment shared by thirteen people is the epitome of foolishness, but they still held each other’s hard dicks in their hands and didn’t even bat an eyelash when Soonyoung stepped, yawning widely, into the shower. They looked at him, already soaking wet, and he looked down at them. And nothing got too weird till he grabbed his cock right in front of them and-  
  
“Wand fight! _Alohomora!_ ”

* * *

  
  
  
Their first time definitely was a long time coming – well… promotions, Mingyu, live shows, Mingyu, promotions, Mingyu, promotions and, yes, why not, _Mingyu_ –, simply because they couldn’t help but ruin every single chance that the universe offered them, too busy fighting for dominance to give in, shut up and take it like they really wanted to- like real men.  
  
The day it finally happened – that glorious, marvelous day –, their dorm looked like a real typhoon passed through, and for probably a good reason.

Chan fucked into Seungkwan so hard against the door of his room, so deep and good, raw and restless, swept away by that tight _tight_ heat and the way the other breathlessly chanted his name over and over again, moaning, cursing and begging, that at one point Seungkwan ended up pulling out the doorknob. Not like Chan could even care, or Seungkwan himself could give the slightest flying fuck, since he was too busy screaming and coming all over Chan’s new shirt with white, warm stripes of cum.

When they came back to their senses and found themselves locked behind a broken door with no way out except of the window of the thirty floor from the other side of the room, no cellphone to call for help and still no sign of life in the dorm except for them… basically, there was no way they wouldn’t have gone for a second round.

The moment Jihoon, Minghao and the manager walked in the dorm after a couple of hours and found them locked in, someone casually mentioned to leave them there and set the room on fire just to keep the potential radioactive substances contained. It wouldn’t have been that much of a bad idea, since one week later Seungkwan’s bed – somehow – unexplainably, really – cracked out of the blue.  
  
Their sex life, which had just barely began, was undoubtedly starting to weigh on the company’s shoulders almost as much as their monthly salary, therefore their sudden discovery of oral pleasurable activities came as an absolute blessing.

Kind of.

Definitely not for Jihoon.

He in the mindset of burning them alive before it was too late, because there was no way he could have kept calm while walking in one of the changing rooms of the backstage to witness Chan gagging on Seungkwan’s dick when all he ever wanted was to find a fucking belt that could held his slightly oversized pants.  
  
“I’m going to murder you. Do you hear me? I’m going to fucking murder both of you.”  
  
“Do you want join maybe?”

* * *

  
  
It’s not that Chan didn’t enjoy his sex life with Seungkwan.

Oh, hell no.

No.

Nonsense.  
  
Chan didn’t have the patience to wait and let him undress whenever they actually find the proper time and place, it was better letting him assault his body from head to toe or push his back against the nearest flat surface, so that he could fuck his brain out like it was their last fuck in this lifetime.  
  
(well, he always had a slight preference in seeing him on all fours, pretty round ass up in the air and face planted in a pillow to muffle his screams, but he couldn’t win against Seungkwan all the times, he just _couldn’t_ , no matter how hard he tried)  
  
He was barely able to choose between taking Seungkwan’s cock deep in his mouth, sucking him a little lower, or rimming him until he was a pliant, needy, unbearable mess. It’s just that one, deep and hard suck was much easier, quicker and less messy – or even dangerous for the environment around them. Sometimes, when the other was in the right mood, it was a bit kinkier too. And by kinkier Chan didn’t imply how incredibly skillful Seungkwan was at sucking dick. No, not at all. Really.  
  
… well, fuck, fine – yes. _Yes_. _Fucking yes_.  
  
Seungkwan definitely had a thing for dicks. He was the precious prince with a golden heart and the smile that could light up the heart’s of anyone. He was the caring young one on the team- always championing out vitamins, a bratty individual on occasion, a noona killer and ye he could be the begging, greedy, loud lover that rode Chan’s dick like he was born for it.

He was the asshole that would whine in front of the whole stadium and also the endless fucking tease who wouldn’t take his dick whole in the mouth even if Chan was already leaking against his red, sweltering cheeks, pulling hard at his bangs, cussing and growling in frustration.  
  
If the battle for getting between each other’s legs had kind of ended on equal terms long ago, the ultimate war for being the worst tease ever had just began.  
  
And Chan was already on the verge of defeat. He knew how to be a brat. He knew how to suck it like he wanted to suck the life of him before leaving him there, on the floor, legs spread and trembling and orgasm tilting from the deep red head of his cock, just to exit the room and go take a piss under Seungkwan’s loud cursing.

But Seungkwan wasn’t like that.

No, he never retreated from the battlefield. He was so much fucking _worse_ than that. Much, much worse.  
  
Like now, for example.  
  
“Damn, my solo is so fucking good.”  
  
Chan glanced up at him for a split second. “No need to be so cocky. One tiny mistake and you’re screwed,” he muffled in a low voice, bored, as he flicked his new score without that much enthusiasm. “Why are you getting a rock solo anyway? We should just make a duet with much less work to do…”  
  
“You’re totally missing the point,” replied Seungkwan, sitting on the edge of Chan’s bed. “This thing,” and he shook the sheets to fan his face, cunning smile already curving his lips. “It’s made to let me shine. Me, my time, my song and my stage. All mine.”  
  
Oh yeah. Not cocky at all. But if it wasn’t cocky it wasn’t Seungkwan, and Chan hate- no, loved, definitely loved even that part of him.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” he retorted immediately. “How much time do you have to shine bright like a diamond? Two minutes? Less, maybe? Wow… _two minutes_. Damn. That’s a real solo, right here. If you sing for so long everyone’s going fall asleep.”  
  
“You’re just jealous about your solo,” Seungkwan kept staring at his score with excitement, humming a couple of tunes in clear contentment, with the most devastatingly beautiful, feral smile plastered on his cute face.  
  
Chan rolled on the bed to face his direction. His muscles ached from the morning dance practice, tired and stiffened; he wasn’t particularly in the mood for one of their meaningless quarrels. Not over something so stupid.  
  
Most of all just because the day was still far from ending and it wasn’t even lunch time yet, he didn’t want to spend the rest of their afternoon practice lesson with an unbearable headache.  
  
“I guess that they didn’t give you a powerful solo because you’re already busy with your musical. Don’t want to strain too much your poor, precious vocal cords?”  
  
“… and you’re also way better at high notes than me.”  
  
Well, that came unexpected.  
  
_Really_ unexpected.  
  
Especially for Chan, who didn’t even realize he had opened his mouth to let out those words himself. He opened his eyes widely, glaring at the ceiling with an extremely doubtful frown, and then he cleared his throat as if he was afraid that something much worse could come out of it without his permission; something on the line of “fuck me sideways”, maybe.  
  
Even Seungkwan looked completely puzzled by that sentence.  
  
“… what the fuck, man,” and he cracked up with a crystal clear laugh. “What was that, are you for real?”  
  
“… what,” Chan stared at him, but not in a _shut your fucking asshole_ way. More like _shut my mouth now with whatever you want before I fuck myself up like an idiot_. Which was even worse.

“I mean- it’s true, anyway,” he tried to explain. “Well. Not that you’re the best, but that your high notes are the best. If there’s someone who can scream on a microphone like squeaky chicken toy that’s you but leave real singing to someone talented like me.”  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Seungkwan nodded in understanding, and his voice was now flat and deep. The smirk that has appeared on his lips brightened up with a very distinct shade of wickedness. “Sure. I’m a stupid squeaky chicken toy like you totally weren’t begging for more like a bitch last night. For how many rounds? Three?”  
  
Chan’s huff came out so sarcastic that he almost wanted to punch himself in the balls. “Begging. I’m sorry… begging?” he looked up from the score. “Of course, I was begging. Your small dick couldn’t even reach that spot, no matter how hard you tried. If I could fuck myself, I would do a much better job, as usual.”  
  
“… said the guy who came just from being fucked from behind not that many days ago,” Seungkwan didn’t flinch, not even for a second. He simply gave him his worst _done with life_ look.

“Go on, Chan. Go on, please. Ruin the moment. You just gave me a compliment that made me want to kiss you so fucking hard and leave you breathless for the rest of the day, but you obviously had to ruin it because no, Lee Chan doesn’t give compliments, he just takes them in the ass.”  
  
Oh, sure. Yeah. That was truly served on a silver platter.  
  
“If there’s somebody here who gladly takes things up the ass, it’s definitely you, sweetie,” he replied with the most calm and accommodating smile, now spread wide on his face since he knew where all this was going.  
  
Seungkwan was already shifting on the bed, one hand pressed against Chan’s inner thigh to turn towards him and lets out a venomous laugh.

“Of course. Don’t stop believing, honey,” he scoffed, cold and overconfident, before bringing back his attention to the folded sheets – and his fingers definitely didn’t scratch the fabric of Chan’s jeans. “Keep on talking. The more you talk, the less we fuck. You’ve already won four weeks of abstinence in the last two minutes; I hope you’re proud of yourself.”  
  
And Chan jerked forward. He grabbed Seungkwan’s wrist and immediately pulled him closer, not giving a single fuck about the way he made him slip almost on top of him, crashing into each other. Gaping and bewildered, with one arm now firmly planted on the mattress by Chan’s waist to keep himself lifted up, Seungkwan made sure to glare at him hard enough to light his brain on fire, bold, unforgiving.  
  
“… oh, eager much?” he then smirked, extremely collected, without breaking for just a split second his deadly stare. “I’m so sorry, Chan. You’ll have to wait for other four weeks to tap this ass. Just let me study this solo, okay? You can go jerk off in the bathroom, since the others have yet to come back with the lunch. But don’t cry too much for being left all alone, please. I love hearing you cry, just not when you’re sad.”  
  
Chan’s thumb caressed lightly the soft, warm skin under his firm grip.

“Who said anything about jerking off…” he licked his lips, eyes gazing at Seungkwan’s as if he wasn’t processing Seungkwan’s words. “Let me hear how you practice those high notes of yours.”  
  
Glimmering with uncertainty, Seungkwan’s dark gaze blinked in his direction. It didn’t take too long before it was traveling down his body, together with the glint of a sarcastic laugh, down, and down, and even more down, till it reached the zip of his jeans. Then Seungkwan was looking back at him – more like literally glaring directly through his skull – and he was smirking under a concealed frown with his most pretentious expression.  
  
“Do you really think that it takes just one “ride me” look to make me go down on your pretty dick, Chan?” he huffed, a light derisory laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to practice my high notes with you, on a bed. Or on the floor. Not even in the shower. I told you, you’re not getting it for a month, you dumb fucker.”  
  
“… and who said anything about fucking? Really, dumbass,” Chan rose one eyebrow. “You can easily practice your high notes on your own. I just want to hear you.”  
  
He tried his absolute best not to groan in amusement when Seungkwan’s left hand clutched around his crotch, but a choked whimper still escaped his throat. He bit his lips, hard. All he had to do now was not laugh out loud in shameless victory, or he would have put all his damn efforts to waste. Which would have been catastrophic.  
  
“Do you want to hear me now, without warm-up?” Seungkwan’s grip tightened as his smile got even more smug and disdainful. “I kind of already learned the lyrics, you know. But I can’t go that high if I don’t warm up a bit.”  
  
“Well…” Chan shifted a little, biting his bottom lip much harder now that he could feel the blood rushing between his legs. “You can do some vocalization, if you want. I can even lend you my microphone.”  
  
Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and it wasn’t a surprise when that bright, sneaky light enlightened his face. It was a subtle understanding, a shared mischievousness to which not even a pouty or overly offended Seungkwan could resist; especially when he really didn’t plan to resist at all from the very beginning.  
  
“… is it the microphone turned on already?” he wondered, hand now stroking the growing bulge under his sweaty palm as fingers travelled up to reach the zip and tug it playfully. Chan snatched Seungkwan’s score, so that he could bring it in front of him and read the pentagram, trying to hum the first phrase without that much interest.  
  
“It’s always turned on for you, if you want to sing with it,” he replied, fast at going back to fan himself with the sheets while Seungkwan began undoing his jeans. He couldn’t possibly want to waste time learning music that didn’t even belong to him when the breathtaking sight of his boyfriend kneeling down between his legs was right in front of him.

Boyfriend, yeah. Seungkwan would have ripped his balls off to make yo-yos out of them, if only he heard that word coming out of Chan’s mouth, but for the time being that was undeniably what he was. Not that Chan wanted to break the news right when the latter was going down with that open mouth on his clothed cock. At all- _oh_ -  
  
“What’s the tune for that…?” Seungkwan paused, barely one fucking inch away from his pants, lifting his head up to bat those eyelashes in slight doubt and lick his lips at the low, refrained hiss that escaped Chan’s clenched teeth. He was smiling with his worst innocent, deceitful smile.

That same smile that was pressed against Chan’s neck some nights ago, biting down on his sweaty skin the last orgasm of their most wild round. Chan coughed to regain some self-composure, the need to shove his dick in that mouth almost blinding him and painting his sight of a pitch sparkling black. Then he looked back at the score and hummed the first two measures.  
  
Seungkwan caught up immediately, singing louder the words that he had previously memorized, and he leaned forward. Chan got just a mere peak of what should have been a heated, passionate and messy kiss, before Seungkwan traced his firm jaw with the light graze of the teeth, mouthing along it the second verse. His pitch was already perfect, even if a little bit raspy and eclipsed by anticipation.  
  
There was no need to grab him by those ruffled brunet locks and push him down. Chan squinted his eyes at how fast Seungkwan’s was moving. He barely had the time to bite back a moan when a thumb circled the tip of his dick through the soft fabric of the pants.  
  
“Wow, your microphone is really hot,” and all of a sudden Seungkwan was unable to refrain his loud laugh. “Is it leaking already? I hope it doesn’t explode on my face, or I’ll have to use another one for the concert.”  
  
Never mind.  
  
He totally needed that push, Chan resolved as he grabbed him firmly by those thick, unstyled bangs and yanked his hair with a breathless growl. “Will you just go down on it, sweetheart?” he snarled. “Or should I simply shove it in your throat just how you like it?”  
  
“ _Ouch_ \- if you pull my hair out, I’ll pull your fucking pubic hair out. One by one, Chan. What’s the hurry-”  
  
“Do you really want Mingyu to walk on us as we do it for the fucking umpteenth time? Do you, Seungkwan? Because we don’t have that much time left and now I really, really, _really_ want to come on your fucking stupid face.”  
  
Seungkwan’s eyes darkened at those words, unspoken desire that had him wetting his lips with spit and strengthen his grip around Chan’s still clothed erection. He gave him one last nod, crowned with the brief hint of a hidden smirk, and he finally sneaked his hands beneath Chan’s pants to firmly grab his hot, hard length. The moment Chan’s dick sprang free, curving next to Seungkwan’s warm cheekbone, even before it could lastly brush against the hot _hot_ breath ghosting from those devilish lips, Chan was no longer able to hold back a liberating moan.  
  
… but no, apparently Seungkwan was still not done with the talking.  
  
_Fucking hell-_  
  
“I don’t want you on my face. I want you in my mouth.”  
  
“Seungkwan, I swear to God, if you don’t suck me right now-”  
  
“… you _what_?” he asked, mischievously resting the bottom lip on the red tip of his cock.  
  
Chan almost howled in pain, forcefully strangling every sound in his throat at the sight of that wicked pout. Every second passed without sinking in that hot wet mouth was now unbearable. There was no way he could have taken it anymore.  
  
“You’re so hard too…” sneered Seungkwan all of a sudden, breath burning Chan’s skin like liquid fire. “What kind of fantasies are you having to be so hard? Me in a sailor uniform? A skirt?”  
  
“… Seokmin in a bra,” he retorted, choked, biting hard the flesh of his inner cheek.  
  
Seungkwan huffed quietly. He only stroked the tip of Chan’s dick with the light, soft touch of his bottom lip, mouth arched in a kittenish smile. “You should just wait for him to come back, then. He can suck you in my place with that pretty mouth of his,” was his uncaring, devious answer, whispered in a mere breath right against the wet slit of his cock.  
  
But Chan was having none of that shit.  
  
“Don’t you fucking dare, Seungkwan.”  
  
“… want me to stroke you a little in the meanwhile? Unless you’ve already reached the limit, then you should probably just wait for-”  
  
“ _Seungkwan_ ,” and he pulled him with one last wheezing growl.

He grabbed him by the nape, pushing him down towards his waist hard enough to force a painful sob out of his throat, and he would have definitely been successful in making him choke on his dick if only Seungkwan hadn’t pushed back with the same inflexible strength. A deadly glare met Chan’s eyes from below his messed-up bangs as the boy forced himself up, eyes glimmered with watery determination.  
  
“Don’t fucking push me. I have yet to get started, princess,” he groaned, much more venomous than alluring.  
  
“ _Don’t fucking tease m-_ ”  
  
Chan’s jaw dropped open in a soundless gasp, muscles clenching hard on his stomach for the unexpected, wet pressure of a hot tongue underneath his length, and he couldn’t but shiver in pleasure as he felt it travelling up his dick, licking slowly every single inch of oversensitive skin like it was Seungkwan’s favorite popsicle. He was waiting for Seungkwan’s mouth to engulf his red, wet head at any given moment, but the other just circled it in a satisfied whisper and placed light, delicate kisses along the sides.  
  
Chan’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling with clear annoyance. “Do you always lick microphones like that?” he whined, breathing in deeply to keep fucking calm, not buck his hips up and therefore possibly not shove his erection in one of Seungkwan’s nostrils.  
  
The next laugh almost electrocuted him on the spot, an explosion of fizzling voltage down his length that made his toes curl with impatience, pressing down hard in the mattress.  
  
Seungkwan didn’t reply. He grabbed the base of his dick with much more conviction, instead, and he muttered against it the next line of his solo, stuttering a couple of times as he forgot one word. He frowned a little, almost angry at himself for not having completely mastered the full lyrics yet, and when he repeated it a second time with any uncertainty he rewarded himself with a gentle bite of that tense, hot skin.  
  
Chan choked on his own spit.  
  
“I can’t sing properly if you don’t let go of my hair, Chan,” he muttered with slight impatience, licking his way to the tip a second time. “Do you want me to scream in pain or sing?” and his breath was hot, hot, hot _so fucking hot_ between those little tentative licks.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
“… are you even asking… for real?” Chan grunted, unable to let go of his locks as if grasping roughly his friend’s head could actually help him not lose control of his sanity.  
  
Seungkwan rose his eyes from Chan’s cock, now glistening in front of him perfectly coated in saliva, and he chewed his own lips in anticipation.  
  
“Screaming is written in your solo, Seungkwan,” he kept going, curling Seungkwan’s brown hair around his left index in a tense, mechanical movement. “Just go for it. _Scream_.”  
  
“I can’t reach that high without proper lubrication, though,” and even if it was just his hand at the moment, stroking not gently at all his slick length, for a moment Chan thought he was already undeniably done, finished. Gone.  
  
The image of Seungkwan’s hot and bothered, screaming face pushed him almost on the edge.

But he endured.

He _had_ to endure it, because Seungkwan had barely gotten started with him, and was now opening his mouth over his dick like it was for the very first time. He watched him descending slowly on the head, lips stretched in what seemed a delicious bite and tongue heavily pressed on the underside. And then Seungkwan sucked, sucked _hard_ , just on the red, wet tip, like he could suck Chan’s soul out of there.

Too bad Chan had no soul to begin with and that he was too busy squirming on the bed to even properly function, punch him or forcefully pull his head far more down and reach heaven. Seungkwan placed one firm hand on his waist, trying to straddle his moments and prevent him from bucking up his hips, and with the other he kept stroking roughly his length with swift sustained movements.

And he just stood there, sucking and sucking, teeth grazing around the glans and tongue playfully flicking on its slit, teasing, and pressing harder and harder in it, a burning wet heat with no match in the entire universe.  
  
Chan’s self-control was disintegrating at the speed of light, because that was far from being enough. There was just one primal need rushing through the blood now roughly flowing in his veins, and that was reaching the back of Seungkwan’s throat, hitting it repeatedly with hard, frantic thrusts, over and over again, until everything would have become all white around him, an explosion of supernovas and raw, animal pleasure.  
  
Nonetheless, there was just no way he would have made it to the point of no return at his own speed. It was Seungkwan who dictated the rules, now; Seungkwan, his speed, his tongue and his sharp, aggressive strokes that were pumping his dick like he wanted to break it in half.  
  
Suddenly there was a muffled sound, a light “ _pop_ ” followed right after by trembling hot breath tickling his cock, and Seungkwan’s mouth left his respectful place with a content groan. Chan looked down, and- bad idea.

Bad, _bad_ idea.

Seungkwan was trying to lick away his precum from those red, swollen lips, and Chan could barely conceal his loud grunt in a strangled, short cough, tensing up in front of the most obscure grin he had ever seen like a virginal teenager. Seungkwan took a deep breath, cleared his throat and began singing his solo all over again, from the start, with more conviction.

And Chan bit his lips hard enough to bleed. He could almost see him, now, the real him, hair styled up and away from the sweaty forehead, one thin line of kohl already smeared on his eyelids and the collar of a leather jacket lifted up around his neck, while he squeezed his dick as hard as he would have squeezed his own microphone before placing it on the lips in front of thousands screaming girls, the vibration of his voice shaking every bone in Chan’s body under the spell of those perfectly hit notes.  
  
Seungkwan sang, mouth placed on the wet length, and he circled the head of Chan’s dick with the rough press of his right thumb. Chan wanted to grab him and shove him down, hard and unforgiving, but before he had the chance to pull his bangs and show him where he truly belonged Seungkwan ended the verse with a light chuckle, sliding his tongue over the head to take it in the mouth… and take it _all_ , this time, as he went down, and down, and down, _and down_ , to the base of his dick, one hand clenched around Chan’s balls to help himself relax the muscles of the throat.  
  
Like every time Seungkwan deep-throated him so fucking out of the blue, Chan felt his life being abruptly smashed out from his chest. His dick was finally, completely buried in Seungkwan’s burning warm wet mouth and there was no oxygen left in his lungs, not anymore, just a breathless, choked “ _oh yes_ ” chanted on his bitten lips that was blurring away with the unbearable need to thrust his hips into that overwhelming heat.  
  
Seungkwan had clearly rushed it a bit. He immediately pulled away of a few inches with a low cough that vibrated through Chan’s erection like a lightning bolt. Chan almost screamed for the sharp teeth that consequentially plunged on his dick, right in the fucking worst moment ever, and he cursed loudly when Seungkwan decided to go down once again. He bobbed slowly his head with a low, deep suction, testing his own resistance before sliding tentatively the hands from Chan’s pelvis to the side of those red-hot hips and willingly decide to take it.  
  
There was never “ _can I_ ” between them. Only “ _just fucking do it_ ”.  
  
That’s when Chan knew he could finally – _finally_ – stop restraining himself. He freely pushed his hips up with a first small thrust in Seungkwan’s welcoming slick mouth and exhaled a trembling breath when he heard another strangled moan vibrate around his dick, now perfectly clutched by the surrounding wet heat.

The grip around Seungkwan’s bangs strengthened all of a sudden, hands roaming through the hair to get a better hold on his head and make sure to keep him still. So Chan rose his waist again. And again. And again. And faster.  
  
Eyes squeezed shut and spit pooling at the corners of the mouth, now red and stretched around Chan’s thick length, Seungkwan took it without a complaint, barely audible gagging moans entrapped in the pit of his throat along with the squelchy sounds of those deep thrusts.  
  
They had barely started, but Chan could already feel the heat building up in his stomach just by looking at the wrecked vision in front of him, sweated and so perfectly fucked up, and he knew that he could have just moved a little faster, a little harder and a little fucking deeper, and he would have definitely lost it with one final, liberating scream.

Yes, he was close. So close. _Yes_. Just a little more. _Just_ -  
  
One hand clamped suddenly on his hip, pushing it down on the mattress without any sort of warning. He tried to pull Seungkwan’s head with a strong, sudden and firm jerk, but he felt immediate resistance. So, he pulled harder, growling in frustration, and he didn’t even have time to regret it. As soon as he pushed one last time his hips up in Seungkwan’s mouth, dragging him down on his dick in the middle of the climax, the soft velvety surface of the tongue was abruptly replaced with the pointed grip of a full set of teeth.

Chan’s body jerked up in a high-pitched scream of pain – fucking _excruciating_ pain –, as he collapsed on the bed with the loudest curse that the walls of their dorm ever heard. There was no need to push Seungkwan away and kick him to the other side of the room, because the boy sucked loudly, intensely, one last time before letting go on his own of that glossy length, now of a beautiful shade of purple curved against Chan’s flat, twitching stomach. There were sparkles flying in Chan’s sight, and they were definitely not of pleasure.  
  
“Not so soon, you fucker,” breathed Seungkwan’s raspy and hoarse voice right between his legs. “You haven’t heard my high notes yet.”  
  
“ _I’ll fucking kill y_ -”  
  
“Shh, shh…” Seungkwan slurped the mixture of spit and precum that was dripping down his chin. “Consider this a payback for the time you left me in the backstage with a fucking raging hard-on.”  
  
“ _You son of a bitch-_ ”  
  
“Who’s the bitch now, uh?” he mocked him, mouth hovering once again on his throbbing cock.  
  
Chan shoved immediately a hand back through Seungkwan’s hair, ready to pull it out of his scalp if he only tried that kind of shit again. “I’m not a fucking bitch,” he growled, teeth clasped as he watched him lick his bright red cock with the slow caress of his tongue.  
  
Seungkwan placed soft, wet, open mouth kisses right where he had just bitten the life out of him, despite not being able to mask a devious and subtle chuckle that made every nerve in Chan’s body burn in anger and frustration.

He then grabbed the base of the erection, lifting it up from his stomach like it was a weightless lollipop, and pressed the tongue against the tip, over and over again, up and down, licking it heavily with deep, hot moans, as he smeared new sticky precum over his puffy lips.

Chan could have just sent him to hell, if only the tight coil of his imminent orgasm wouldn’t have clenched his stomach with that much strength now that Seungkwan was stroking his dick from base to tip, slippery little sounds getting faster and faster along with the friction of his tongue.  
  
“You really come fast,” Chan felt the brief laugh over his tingling and oversensitive skin. “… like a bitch,” added Seungkwan, running his smiling mouth over the protruding vein underneath the head. “Makes me want to fucking ruin you.”  
  
“I’ll be the one ruining you… you fucking bastard,” spat out Chan, strangled, fighting with all his strength to last a little longer, just a _little_ longer, and not give in. “I swear I’ll take you like-”  
  
He was suddenly interrupted by a soft, muffled melody. Seungkwan had now started singing the rest of his solo in a low voice, rubbing mindlessly Chan’s cock against one of his flushed cheek, a light concentrated frown. He kept stroking it, faster and faster the more he became sure of the lyric and his own perfect tune.

Then he smiled widely, smug, one last devious smile directed to Chan’s stressed expression. Seungkwan took a deep breath in, slow and steady, and when he went down one last time towards the leaking tip, he sang much louder, much more committed, with the exact same fully dedicated passion that made him shine on stage.

There was no music, but he hit those notes with the same raw precision he would have hit Chan in his most hidden, sacred place, over and over again, till both of them would have screamed the same loud song, barely choking in a panting, moaning silence. No stuttering, no hesitation, no false note.  
  
The score to which Chan was still holding on crushed in his sweaty palm, making the pentagram that Seungkwan was singing by heart crumple with the sheets in an incontrollable tremor. His chest was now rising as his breath shortened with the steep climax, gasping harder and heavier. He could feel it coming, there was nothing left to do, Seungkwan’s-  
  
Seungkwan opened his eyes one last time, blown wide pupils darkened with a deep shade of cunning mischievousness. Just a mere second, the time to meet Chan’s lost gaze in an unspoken promise – a mocking, motherfucking laugh, actually; the laugh that Seungkwan would give him whenever he knew he had completely smashed his sanity –, before closing them under those thick eyelashes.  
  
Chan looked at his movements in a blur, barely breathing as Seungkwan grabbed his dick with both hands, one under the other, holding it in the tightest, firmest grip he had ever- fucking- fucked- _fuck_ -  
  
_Fu- fffh-_  
  
Seungkwan’s voice ripped up the silence. It jumped from his vocal cords, high, higher, and higher, reaching the highest note of the solo with sharp, perfectly calibrated accuracy, overtones so tight in his voice that Chan felt them explode under his throbbing skin. Eyes shut under the ruffled bangs, veins protruding on his temple and milky precum glimmering on his strained lips, Seungkwan rode his cadenza with the highest, loudest scream, giving it all to reach ultimate perfection.  
  
And for Chan the game was over.

The clear sound of Seungkwan’s voice blasted at full power against his dick, vibrating through every bone, muscle and tissue of his body, crashed over him like an unstoppable rogue wave and his body jerked forward into that tight _tight_ grip.

Pleasure exploding all around him, he couldn’t even get a chance to hear the unexpected click of the door behind them, nor catch the sudden gasp that broke Seungkwan’s last breathtaking note, choked at its sunset for the hot white stripes of cum that shoot against his face, over his flushed cheeks and his open mouth.  
  
… fucking Mingyu.  
  
“Seungkwan, I heard you were practicing for your solo, can y- _oh my fucking god-_ ”

* * *

  
The crowd was going wild, a warm ocean of bright lightsticks floating above their heads with loud, high cheers.  
  
“Time to shine,” a hand caressed his stomach, gentle pat of encouragement before the platform lifted up beneath Seungkwan’s feet.  
  
Under the stage was dark, hot, chaotic and frantic, a fast thumping of steps running everywhere that competed against his relentless heartbeat. Sweat and adrenaline rushed down his forehead, and he frowned in concentration as a little, hidden smirk of accomplishment arched his lips.  
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
Chan’s warm breath fluttered against the perspired skin of his neck.  
  
He would have leaned backwards, against that warm, sweaty chest. He would have maybe turn around and plant a hungry, messy kiss on those thirsty lips, uncaring of all the eyes that could have seen them in that dark space.

Seungkwan didn’t have time to care about anything else now, too concentrated on his imminent performance to lose focus for a mere touch. And he was ready, yes. So ready. He had never been more ready in his entire life.  
  
Not even turning back for one last glance, a smile or an answer, he slowly nodded to himself, microphone held tight in his hand. His grip trembled.  
  
Chan shifted behind him to get off the platform, finally ready to be lifted up on stage, and give him one last pat on the butt for good luck. A firm, promising squeeze that totally didn’t last longer than usual.  
  
The lights of the scene suddenly hit him and Seungkwan had to compose himself before placing the microphone against his lips, unable to erase Chan’s last whispered words from his head.  
  
“Sing it like you're blowing me.”


End file.
